Whether in a Khaki suit or a pimped stripe. I'm a G for G and nuttin' else for life. You can bet your bottom biscuit. You get twisted if you dwellin' in my felon intuition (what up). Dying diaries #1
Shoes side by side, the ends hanging over the gutter casting small shadows which hide beneath the souls, as if shrinking from the road. Whisps of vapour in the post rain heat. Oil stains on the road a technicolour soup. A cyclist rushes past, the chasing wind lifts the shirt causing it to flutter. Further on up the road the lights have changed. Cars rush by, vans, trucks, motorcycles, pedestrians. The shadow has left the confines of the gutter and streches back along the footpath for just a moment, before retreating back again. However this time it does not shrink. It floats out towards the stain on the road, stops, then glides for five metres down the road and stops again.